


The Bookstore

by IckleRonnikens



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:34:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22917058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IckleRonnikens/pseuds/IckleRonnikens
Summary: Harry owns Hermione’s favourite bookstore. AU Harmony.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Comments: 13
Kudos: 163





	1. The Encounter

There are many different types of bookstores in the world. You have your bricks-and-mortar bookstore chains, which tend to have overwhelmingly large selections, abnormally high ceilings and a general unwelcoming feeling. There are the non-bookstore retailers that carry books, and normally are of a limited stock, with the staff generally having no knowledge of what categories they have and an overall disdain attitude towards the books section.

Then there are independent bookstores. Generally, they are small, cosy stores that carry a limited range of titles and focus on better-selling titles along with local bestsellers and a selection of books of local interest. In these stores, the staff are always friendly, their knowledge of literature is unrivalled, and they always put the customers first.

As a lifelong bookworm, whenever Hermione Granger managed to find an independent bookstore with any of these qualities, it would turn into her second home. She would spend as much time as she could, outside of her working hours, tucked away in the quietest corner of the store, pouring over one of the books that came highly recommended by the owner of the shop.

However, always the perfectionist, whether it was after a few days, weeks or months, she would inevitably find a flaw in the bookstore somewhere. It has been a number of different things over the years; one store was located too close to the London underground and the entire place rattled every fifteen minutes; another store, she found the owner far too creepy, because he kept coming to check on her every thirty minutes or so with his lopsided smile and yellow teeth; and then there was the most criminal one of all, the store with the alphabetical misfiles, which she would find on a daily basis.

Hermione was still banned from that bookstore.

Hermione was made to believe that the perfect independent bookstore did not exist. Not in London anyway. It wasn’t until one soggy Sunday afternoon, when she was running errands on the other side of town for her boss, and was caught without an umbrella, that her theory was tested. After unsuccessfully hailing a taxi, she sprinted into the nearest establishment that was open, and found herself on the threshold of one of the cutest little bookstores she’d seen in years.

The store was filled to the brim with books. There were filled bookcases that lined the walls, there were overrun tables and cabinets that sat in the corners, and there were even stacks of books piled on the floor. To her left, there was a small wooden staircase that led to an upstairs area, where more and more books where layered on top of each other, some sitting precariously, almost as if being held in place by magic. To her right was the front desk, at the foot of which sat more piles of books and behind it stood a handsome young man with wire-rimmed glasses and messy black hair enveloped in paperwork.

When Hermione took that extra step forward into store, looking quite windswept, the man behind the front desk spotted her.

‘Good afternoon,’ he said cheerfully, putting down his pen.

‘Hello,’ Hermione said automatically, her eyes were still wandering. ‘This is a lovely little bookstore.’

‘Thank you,’ the man said happily, inclining his head. ‘May I ask if there’s anything in particular you’re looking for today, or did you simply come in to take shelter from the rain?’

Hermione raised her eyebrows at him. ‘The latter,’ she said, not wanting to lie to this man for some reason, ‘but, how did you—?’

The man laughed infectiously. ‘I only ever get two types of visitors when it’s raining,’ he said smartly, ‘the mailman, who has to come in, and people going past who have forgotten their umbrellas.’

‘I happen to love books,’ Hermione said defensively, ‘would you mind if I looked around?’

‘Not at all,’ the man said with a nod, picking his pen back up. ‘Please, feel free to take your time, or until the weather clears up anyway.’

Hermione gave him a nervous smile and he returned to his paperwork. She hesitated, but not wanting to still be standing there when he looked up again, she moved forwards past the front desk and went up a couple of steps into a back area. There were a couple of tables and chairs about, it looked rather like a reading area, with rows of bookcases and alcoves beyond there, again filled to the brim with books.

She made her way over to the _Classics_ section. She always believed the best way to judge a bookstore, or indeed the owner of a bookstore, was by what _Classic_ authors they had on show. As her eyes began to run down the list of names, she felt a rush of delight flow through her, they were all there: _Austen, Dickens, Hemingway, Shakespeare, Tolstoy_ …

The more Hermione moved around the store, the more she liked what she saw. Eventually she grabbed a random book from a table, found a little alcove near the back of the store and engrossed herself in reading: _Endangered Species by Anton Hert._

It was the most perfect afternoon. Time flew by so fast. The store was quiet, peaceful and Hermione went undisturbed. Occasionally she heard soft voices of other customers coming and going, but it was never distracting, and she didn’t even realise it had stopped raining, until much later, when soft footsteps approached her position and the owner’s face poked around the corner.

‘Hello again, sorry,’ he said apologetically, at least his smile wasn’t lopsided and creepy but rather soft and friendly, ‘just thought you’d like to know that it’s stopped raining.’

‘Oh,’ Hermione said, looking briefly up from her book, ‘okay, thanks.’

The man smiled, waved and walked away again. After Hermione returned to her book, he did not disturb her again until well after the lights of the store had been turned on and she had progressed quite a way through the book.

‘I’m closing up now,’ his voice said softly down the row of books towards her.

Hermione sighed. If she could have her way, she would not move from her position until the book in her hands had been finished. However, with the excitement of the story still rushing through her veins when she closed it, she took it with her to the front of the store with the intent on purchasing it.

The owner glanced down at the book on the counter, smiled and then looked back up at Hermione.

‘And how many chapters did we get through then?’ he asked curiously, a look of amusement spread across his face.

Hermione felt her face grow pink again. ‘I’m sorry about that,’ she said truthfully. ‘I sometimes lose track of time.’

‘Not at all,’ the owner said, smiling, ‘I like to encourage reading in my store. It’s why I put in those comfy armchairs. My philosophy is, if you’re going to spend money on something, you need to get a taste of whether it’s worthwhile or not.’

Hermione smiled. ‘That’s admirable,’ she said brightly, ‘and in this case,’ she jabbed the book in front of them with her finger, ‘I believe it is a very worthwhile purchase.’

The owner raised his eyebrows with a smile, and she held out some money for him to take.

‘I’ll tell you what,’ he said after a pause, observing her carefully, ‘I’ve already reached my expected quota for the day, quite easily I might add, so why don’t you take the book for now—’

‘Oh, no,’ Hermione said, slightly taken aback, ‘I couldn’t possibly do that.’

‘Nonsense,’ the owner said amusingly, moving around the desk to join her at the front of it. ‘You take it and read the rest of it, please. And then, if you still think it’s worth the purchase, you can come back and I will not reject your money.’

He said it so casually that even Hermione half-thought that it might be a trap. However, he handed over the book and was escorting her to the front door, which he opened very gentlemanly-like for her.

‘But what if I never come back?’ Hermione asked curiously, turning to look at him on the threshold.

The owner smiled. ‘It’s fine if you chose not to,’ he said truthfully, ‘the loss of that book is of no importance to me. But I hope you do return, Miss, because I’d very much like to know your name.’

Hermione blinked at him in confusion. She didn’t know what to say, so they stood there in silence for a moment instead, until he cleared his throat and Hermione automatically walked to the other side of the door.

‘Good evening,’ the owner said, inclining his head at her as he closed and locked the door behind her, before pulling the curtains down and disappearing out of sight.


	2. The Assistant

Hermione stayed up all night reading that night, which was normally something she did on special occasions, like when a really good book engrossed her, or when a novel she’d been waiting six months for finally came out. Back when she lived with her parents, Hermione used to take a flashlight to bed with her and hide under the covers, reading until she couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer. Some mornings, her father would come into her room to wake her up and find her asleep, still clutching her flashlight in one hand and her book in the other.

But on this particular night, of course, her circumstances were much different. She could keep the lights on in the small apartment she had been renting for over a year now, and she sat up in bed, with a chamomile tea beside her, reading the book she’d got from the new bookstore she’d found. She felt a little guilty, it almost felt like she’d stolen the thing that was in her hands, and if she didn’t finish reading it and return to the store first thing in the morning to pay for it, it would go against every single moral fibre being in her body.

When she finally reached the end of the book, which she decided was a fantastic read, she turned to look at her bedside alarm clock and found it to be three in the morning. It wasn’t as late as she expected, thankfully, and so she turned the lights off and prepared for sleep, knowing that at least she might be able to squeeze in a few hours before she had to get up for work.

However, when she eventually woke, and it was to silence, she panicked. Her eyes flicked towards her bedside table and discovered it was already eight thirty. She sat upright and cursed. In her haste to sleep last night after reading her book, she had forgotten to set her alarm, and now she was going to be late. Not only that, but her plan to take a detour back to the bookstore before work was completely out of the question now.

Hermione had never rushed more in her life. She hated being late, she had never been that sort of person in all of her life, and on the occasions that she had been, she always felt dreadful about it. She showered, dressed in her smart casuals, grabbed a muffin from the fridge and headed out the door for work. She also made sure she had the book stuffed into her bag before leaving her building and heading for the London underground.

As she undertook the journey into the Central Business District on the tube, she kept checking her watch, alarmed at how far past nine it already was and how dreadfully slow the train ride was going. It didn’t help matters when she unwrapped her muffin for breakfast and found that it had gone bad. What was worse, she got stuck between two older gentlemen, both were rather beefy men with very little neck and stuffed into suits. They were having a rather monotonous discussion about drills and were threatening to put her back to sleep.

When she reached her stop, she was the first out the door. She had to avoid a very little, very old man with a white beard on the other side of it, who yelled at her in a high-pitched, squeaky voice as she shot up the flights of stairs and burst out onto main street. She hurried along the bustling district towards the place of her work around the corner. It was a very tall building, and very modern, made with a lot of glass. Hermione took the elevator up to the seventy-seventh floor and stepped out to greet the receptionist.

‘Morning Miss Granger,’ she said with a smile, before checking her watch and frowning, ‘you’re—’

‘Late, yes I know, Robbins,’ Hermione said, waving as she hurried passed through the doorway to a left, she raced along the row of cubicles, filled with journalists, towards the very back and through another doorway.

Here there was another receptionist area, with two desks, situated in front of a large office; Hermione was thankful that the door was closed, and the blinds were shut. However, her arrival did not go unnoticed; at one of the desks sat an extremely pretty girl, with long flaming red hair tied up in a bun and a freckled complexion. She was pale, petite and had brown eyes, which widened intently when she spotted Hermione and she was forced to shoot upwards out of her chair.

‘Where have you _been_?!’ she asked impatiently, as Hermione hurried forwards and took her place behind her desk. ‘I’ve been dying here!’

‘Oh, Ginny, I’m sorry,’ Hermione said apologetically, turning on her computer and properly arranging some of her paperwork. ‘I slept in. Have they been asking for me?’

‘Yes, several times,’ Ginny said irritably, sitting back down in her chair, ‘I told them you were running errands, but they kept asking me to elaborate, and I didn’t know how—’

‘That’s okay, thanks for covering for me,’ Hermione said with relief, bringing up her emails and beginning to answer them.

Silence fell between them as they worked. Hermione and Ginny weren’t just co-workers, they were really good friends, and had been since the first day they started working together. They had bonded over a love of books, even though Ginny wasn’t as big of a bookworm as Hermione, they tended to like the same genres and authors and they often visited bookstores together.

However, whilst Hermione’s life passion is in literature, and her job as an assistant in the journalism industry is a stepping stone, it is only a side job for Ginny. Her dream is sport, which she is freakishly good at, and is currently aiming to play soccer at a more professional level. And her life goal is to one day represent her country at an international level.

Ginny finished sending an email and cast a glance over at Hermione.

‘Why did you sleep in, anyway?’ Ginny asked curiously. ‘That’s not like you.’

‘I was up late, reading,’ Hermione explained with a shrug.

‘Of course,’ Ginny said with a smirk, ‘because you don’t do enough of that on your lunch break as it is.’

‘It’s complicated,’ Hermione said seriously, ‘you see, I found this new bookstore—’

‘Another one?’ Ginny asked with raised eyebrows. ‘That’s the fourth one this year! Don’t you have anything better to do on your weekends?’

‘I found it by accident,’ Hermione said bitterly, turning to look at Ginny who rolled her eyes in disbelief. ‘It’s true! I was escaping the rain and it was the first place I went into.’

‘No, Hermione,’ Ginny said, shaking her head, ‘there’s no way you found a bookstore on _accident_. My brother, Ron on the other hand, I could imagine—’

‘Which one is Ron?’ Hermione asked in question. ‘Is he the tall handsome one with an earring?’

‘He wishes,’ Ginny said quietly with a laugh. ‘Ron is the one person in my family that wouldn’t be caught dead with a book in his hand. Anyway, that doesn’t matter, tell me about this bookstore.’

Hermione eyes lit up with joy. ‘Oh, Ginny, it’s fantastic,’ she said brightly, ‘it might just be the one—’

‘Didn’t you say that about the last one?’ Ginny asked curiously. ‘The one you’re now banned from?’

‘Mistakes were made,’ Hermione said, waving away the thought. ‘I’m serious about this one. The only way I can describe it is that it’s perfect. You must come with me and have a look at it—’

‘I can’t tonight,’ Ginny said miserably, plopping her elbow on the table and resting his chin on the palm of her hand. ‘We lost the game on Saturday. The coach is furious and wants all of us down at the club tonight to go over the review with a fine-tooth-comb.’

She made a face and scribbled something in her notebook.

‘You would think you’d done enough for your team by scoring a hat-trick,’ she went on sourly, ‘but then the good-for-nothing defence go ahead and let in four—’

Ginny’s telephone rang and she answered it grumpily. She was able to be professional as she took the call, and then once she hung up, she raced into the large office with the message. After several minutes of conversation that Hermione could faintly hear from her desk, Ginny came back out with a slightly pink face.

‘They asked for you again,’ Ginny said softly, after she’d sat back down, wrote something in her notebook and then swivelled around in her chair to face Hermione. ‘I told them you were here now, sorry. They want to see you.’

‘Thanks,’ Hermione said, collecting up her pen and notebook and strolling confidently into the office.


	3. The Marauder Times

_The Marauder Times_ is a popular British newspaper that was founded in 1975 by four high-school students in central London. It was originally created as a newsletter, vying to be an alternate source of news from the official newsletter handed out by their school, and it strove to tell the real truth about the people there. In its early editions, it exposed real problems in the public-school system that was becoming all too reoccurring country wide. Bullying was leading to suicide, there was an ever-growing number of lazy and incompetent teachers, and the unhygienic conditions in the cafeteria was making students sick.

The creators of _The Marauder Times_ were, at first, anonymous; understandably so, they went by pen names, in order to avoid retribution by the school's Principal and its Governing board. But in a matter of weeks, the names _Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs_ were both famous and infamous, depending on which side of the fence you stood on.

It was a wakeup call for parents across the country and real changes began to take effect. Within a year there was a new Principle, a replacement of a handful of teachers and a health inspector showed up every three months. _The Marauder Times_ , however, went on publishing; no one could ever find out who was doing it and how they were managing to distribute such large quantities in secret and in very little time.

It was almost like magic.

Then, in 1978, _The Marauder Times_ stopped publishing. It was believed that the people involved had graduated, or were due to graduate, and wanted instead to focus on that. Some theories suggested that there’d been a falling out between the members, a disagreement or argument over where to go next with the newsletter, considering the conditions at their school had improved. Others believed the newsletter had run its course and the creators had stopped before becoming obsolete.

It wasn’t until fifteen years later, a strange newspaper with the same name began to find its way into common circulation around London. At first, it was believed to be a coincidence that the newsletter and newspaper shared the name. But as more and more copies of the paper were released, it was obvious when reading articles about the condition of _The Crown_ that the writers were one and the same.

 _The Marauder Times_ began to grow in popularity again. What set it apart from the other newspapers was its ability to focus on the important topics, much like it had in its early newsletter days, and it grew from there. The distribution of the papers became much more industrial, in order to adhere to the demands of the public, and a building was bought in its name. Which meant, that finally, the real names of the creators of _The Marauder Times_ were released.

Sirius _“Padfoot”_ Black was the original creator of the group and the original owner of the newsletter. He was effectively the Editor-in-Chief of the newsletter, a title he now holds at _The Marauder Times_ newspaper. Sirius oversees all phases of the production of the newspaper and decides what information will be released in what way.

Remus _“Moony”_ Lupin quickly became the Managing Editor of _The Marauder Times_ newsletter, a title he still holds. As clearly the most literate member of the group, it was regularly his job to go over the newsletter and ensure everything made sense grammatically. He also has a high sense of morality, often having to cut things the others in the group did not want to cut.

Peter _“Wormtail”_ Pettigrew got his nickname because of his desperate want of social attention. Quite often he was thrown into situations where he overhead a slip-of-the-tongue and was able to report back proudly to the group and help write a story from there. Even amidst the height of _The Marauder Times_ newsletter, when people were careful about what they said in front of others, Peter was never suspected.

Peter is no longer involved with _The Marauder Times_ , he is said to be living happily in the country somewhere, earning a living by breeding rats, mostly for science experiments.

The name of the fourth founder, _“Prongs”_ , has never been released, and out of respect from the other founders, it is likely to remain that way for good. It was suggested that the fourth member was dead, but there has been no confirmation, and it is likely to remain a mystery, unless the circumstances of the current members change.

These days, _The Marauder Times_ is a multi-million-dollar newspaper, with hundreds of employers, and it is able to hold its weight against the biggest names. Sirius Black and Remus Lupin are still at the top, running the newspaper their way, and continuing to be successful at it.

Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley have been there assistants for several years now and have become an integral part of the paper’s success. They after often given the jobs of the highest importance, which was waiting for Hermione as she walked into their office and found them hunched over a rough draft of tomorrow's edition.

‘Ahh, Miss Granger, there you are,’ Sirius said as she approached the table in the middle of the room.

‘Morning Mr Black, morning Mr Lupin,’ Hermione said politely, nodding at them in turn with her notebook at the ready. ‘You wanted to see me?’

‘Yes, urgently, over an hour ago,’ Sirius said seriously, he stood up to look at her with his hands on his hips and his eyebrows raised.

‘I’m sorry,’ Hermione said automatically, suddenly panic stricken, ‘I’m not sure if Gin— err, Miss Weasley told you, but I was running errands this morning and got in late—’

‘She did,’ Remus said, pushing his glass back up his nose.

‘Yes, so,’ Hermione took a breath, ‘I haven’t got around to answering all my emails yet. So, if this is what that’s about—?’

‘Relax,’ Sirius said, his gaze softened, and he smiled gently at her instead, ‘it’s not about that.’

‘We need you to run a few errands for us,’ Remus informed her, whilst Sirius nodded along in agreement. ‘Some correspondents of ours have some important information and, well, considering the technological times we’re in, they are a little hesitant in sending it over to us digitally. We need someone to go to them physically and collect it.’

Remus pointed to Sirius, who nodded, walked over to Hermione and handed her a piece of paper.

She looked down at it and blinked. Scribbled on it, in Sirius’ rough handwriting, were several addresses. ‘These are all on the other side of town, aren’t it?’ she asked curiously, thinking of her new favourite little book shop as she looked up at the two owners.

They raised their eyebrows at her.

‘Is that going to be a problem?’ Sirius asked curiously, holding out his hand in case she wanted to give it back.

‘Oh, no, Mr Black,’ Hermione said nervously, ‘it’s no problem, of course. I’ll do it.’

‘Very well,’ Remus said nodding, ‘thank you, Miss Granger, you may go.’

Hermione inclined her head and turned to leave before she stopped and turned to face them on the threshold.

‘About those emails—?’ Hermione began to say, twisting the paper with the address in her hands.

‘Getting this information is of great importance, Miss Granger,’ Remus said firmly, taking off his glasses to survey her. ‘We intend to run the story in tomorrow’s edition. Forward your emails to me, and then be on your way, please.’

‘Yes, Mr Lupin,’ Hermione said quickly, turning on her heel and leaving.

Ginny looked up expectantly the moment Hermione had closed the door behind her and rushed back to her desk.

‘Well, what did they want from you?’ she asked curiously. ‘It’s not something bad is it? They aren’t firing you, are they? Oh, no, wait— they're firing me!’

Hermione flapped the piece of paper at her. ‘No one is getting fired,’ she said with a hiss, ‘they just want me to run a few errands.’

‘Errands?’ Ginny asked, looking scandalous. ‘That’s all? After so much persisting? Why did they need _you_? I could have run errands!’

Hermione shrugged. She was forwarding all her urgent emails to Remus and not really listening. All she could think about was getting the errands done on other side of town, and then, whilst she was there, pop in on her new favourite bookshop.

‘These are all on the other side of town,’ Ginny said despondently when reading the piece of paper, ‘you won’t be back for ages, who will I have lunch with?’

‘How about the Robbins girl at reception?’ Hermione suggested with a smirk, she was hurriedly getting her things together.

Ginny frowned. ‘She talks too much,’ she said slyly, crossing her arms.

‘Really?’ Hermione asked with a smirk. ‘I couldn’t imagine what that’s like.’

Ginny sticking her tongue out at her friend and then returned to her desk.

‘I’m sorry, Ginny, I’ll make it up to you,’ she said with a wave, and not waiting for it to be returned, Hermione hurried away.


	4. The Botanist

Two different trains, a short taxi ride and a walk down the block later, Hermione found herself entering the quaint little bookstore that she’d fallen in love with not twenty-four hours ago. When she stepped inside over the threshold and approached the front desk, it was deserted. She heard no footsteps, no voices and no signs of movement. Her eyes dropped to the counter and she tapped the small bell that was there, which sat next to a small sign that said: _Ring for Service!_

Hermione looked around curiously. There was no answer, and so, automatically she rang it again. Silence filled her ears, and she shrugged, guessing that the owner was fetching something from the very back of the back room and was out of earshot. She left the book she needed to pay for on the counter next to the bell and began to wander. She could afford too; she’d managed to collect all the information from Sirius and Remus’ correspondents and had some time to spare.

She returned to the table of books near the back that had already given her one unforgettable book, with the hope that it could produce her yet another one. But after a quick sweep of the selection, she gave up on the thought of it and kept wandering. She went past the _Classics_ this time and began to look at the _Mystery_ section. After all, that’s the genre of the book she had been reading, and that was the mood she found herself in.

Hermione went to reach for a random book from the bookshelf when she heard the door to the back room behind her open. She spun around curiously and found, not the owner, but a round-faced, short, chubby man with blonde hair, sweating slightly as he carried a large pile of books. In his haste to close the door behind him, he didn’t spot the iron door stopper by his foot, so when he turned, he tripped and the books he had been carrying flung across the wooden floorboards.

‘Oh, no,’ the man said miserably, wiping his brow and bending to his knee to start picking the books back up.

‘Let me,’ Hermione said, moving forward to collect the book that had bounced in her direction.

‘Oh,’ the man said nervously, looking up at her, ‘err— thanks.’

They collected the books together then put them into separate and easier to carry piles on the table.

‘I don’t mean to be rude,’ Hermione said once the last book was collected, ‘but should you be carrying around that many books at once?’

‘Probably not,’ the man said despondently, sighing as he wiped his brow, ‘but he wanted me to move some books around whilst it was quiet.’

‘He, who?’ Hermione asked curiously, vaguely looking around at the empty bookstore.

‘The owner,’ the man explained with a shrug. ‘He’s gone into town, to do some banking, and left me to move a few things around.’

‘Oh,’ Hermione sighed in disappointment, ‘you mean he’s not here?’

The man shook his head. ‘Sorry, no.’

Hermione smiled at him. ‘That’s okay. What’s your name?’ she asked, in an attempt to be polite.

‘Neville,’ the man said obediently, frowning up at her. ‘Neville Longbottom.’

‘Nice to meet you, Neville,’ she said, putting out her hand. ‘I’m Hermione Granger.’

They shook hands. Hermione made no comment about how sweaty his palms were, and when Neville wasn’t looking, she subtly wiped her hand on her casual business pants.

‘So,’ Neville said finally after an awkward pause, ‘is there maybe something I can help you with?’

‘I had an agreement with the owner,’ Hermione explained, ‘he said to come back and pay him for the book I was reading, only when I was satisfied with it. I’d like to hand him the money myself if I could.’

‘Well, he should be back soon, if you want to wait,’ Neville said kindly, picking up the first pile of books to be put away.

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Hermione watched him gloomily saunter away, and after hesitating, she picked up the other pile of books and followed him. ‘I don’t remember seeing you here yesterday, Neville,’ she added curiously, walking behind him as he began to distribute the books around the store.

‘I don’t work weekends,’ Neville said seriously, reading the title of the book at the top of his pile, ‘the owner doesn’t like asking that of me, but between you and me, I could use the money.’

‘Why is that?’ Hermione asked, for some reason she was oddly interested in this man.

‘Oh, see, books are nice and all, but they really aren’t my thing,’ he said truthfully, stepping up onto a footstool to reach a high shelf. ‘I’m trying to work my way through school.’

‘That’s admirable,’ Hermione said encouragingly, nodding, ‘what are you studying?’

‘Botany,’ Neville said, as he stepped back down to face her, ‘I want to be a Botanist more than anything else in the world. See, that’s the study of—’

‘Plants,’ Hermione said, finishing his sentence, ‘yes, I know.’

Hermione looked around the small bookstore. She hadn’t noticed it at first, but now that she saw it, she was heartened by the fact that every single pot plant in the place was occupied by something different, everything was flowering beautifully and all of them were the right colours. Neville seemed to notice her eyes wandering, and he beamed proudly at the nearby Begonia, which was a blooming bright yellow colour.

‘I’m afraid I’ve started turning this bookstore into a part-time florist,’ Neville said with a chuckle, as he moved to the next aisle and put away the rest of the books.

‘Your boss seems very relaxed about it all,’ Hermione said, shuffling forwards also and offering Neville her pile of books.

‘He’s great,’ Neville said happily, taking the top book off the pile. ‘He says the plants give a nice welcoming feel to the place, and he pays me a little extra to take care of them. When I’m not helping him with the books that is.’

Hermione gave him a weak smile after he put away the first book and grabbed the next from her pile.

‘How long have you been working here?’ Hermione asked, wondering at what point she was becoming too nosy.

‘A year,’ Neville said with a shrug, ‘it takes four to get a degree in Botany, so I’m trying to keep my hands clean in this place and hold on to the job as long as I can.’

Hermione handed him the last book to put away. ‘You seem like a good employee,’ she said, watching him disappear into the _Shakespeare_ section. ‘You put those books away very efficiently. It’s essential for workers in bookstores to know where everything is.’

‘I did put those books away quickly, didn’t I?’ he said proudly, grinning. ‘You helped me though.’

Hermione shrugged and smiled. ‘All I would suggest,’ she said quietly, as they moved back to the front of the store, ‘is that you avoid carrying large piles of books like that again. It won’t do your back any good.’

‘Thanks,’ Neville said with a laugh, wiping his sweaty brow again. ‘Are you sure I can’t help you in return? I’d be really sorry if you came all this way for nothing.’

Hermione sighed. She looked down at the book on the counter. She wanted to pay for it now, to fix her guilty conscience, but if she was honest, she wanted to make a point of paying the owner.

‘But I suppose, if it’s that important to you that you honour it as his deal, then perhaps you should just come back?’ Neville suggested, reading her thoughts.

‘Really?’ Hermione asked hopefully. ‘That would all right?’

‘I don’t see why not,’ Neville said with a smile. ‘He should be here next time.’

‘Thank you, Neville,’ Hermione said, picking the book back up again. ‘I’ll come back as soon as I can, I promise. It was lovely to meet you!’

‘And you,’ Neville inclined his head as he headed back for the door that lead into the back room.

Hermione watched him go. If she didn’t already have enough reasons to fall in love with this bookstore, Neville and his pot plants were just another thing to add to the list. After a pause she checked her watch and was alarmed at the time. It was almost three in the afternoon; she’d been gone almost half the day; she still hadn’t had her lunch yet and it would take her another hour and a half to get back across town and back to work.

Sirius and Remus would need the information as early as possible, if they were to have the story written and the deadline of midnight met before they started printing. She could not afford to take any longer, so after giving her favourite new bookstore one last glance, she turned on her heel for the exit and hurried to the curb of the street and hailed the first taxi that came along.


	5. The Burrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear loyal readers, sorry about all this backstory, but it is necessary, and there will be Harmony moments again, at some point, I promise.

For the rest of the week, Hermione was so caught up in her work, that she was never able to escape the clutches of her life and go back to her favourite bookstore. The unpaid book she kept constantly on her person was like a reminder, ever gnawing away at the back of her mind, focusing on her morality and making sure she did not forget that it did not yet belong to her. As well as that, the face of the owner that she had met that first day kept swimming around in front of her eyes and she was desperate to go back and meet him properly.

Friday came around and she was still carrying the book around with her. She thought at the very least come the weekend, she’d finally be able to return it, but that was before Ginny leaned over her desk during their lunch break and asked her to attend her birthday party.

‘It’ll be fun,’ Ginny was saying, taping her fingernails on the side of the desk, ‘were having it at the family home, you can come with me tonight and spend the weekend there.’

‘Oh, Ginny, I’m flattered,’ Hermione began to say, ‘but—’

‘You owe me, from lunch the other day, remember?’ Ginny said fiercely, standing up to her full height and pointing a finger at Hermione.

‘Because I missed one lunch?’ Hermione asked, scowling at her.

‘There was also a lunch before that,’ Ginny said, narrowing her eyes, ‘and the time you stood me up for a drink because you found a new bookstore—’

‘All right, fine,’ Hermione said frustratingly, ‘I’ll go.’

Ginny put her arms up in the air triumphantly. Hermione was just being difficult, of course she wanted to go to her friend’s birthday party. She was honestly flattered that a co-worker would invite a near stranger in the first place, not only to a birthday party, but to her family home for a whole weekend. Hermione had heard so much about them, she was so intrigued, so eager to meet them, how could she say no?

Unfortunately, there was no time for her to make a detour to the bookstore between finishing work and going home to pack. She met Ginny at King’s Cross Station promptly at six, and they got on the train to Devon, which would take about three hours. Hermione spent the time staring out of the compartment window, as the scenery went by, thinking about the bookstore. Ginny got bored almost immediately, and after she spotted the book poking out of Hermione’s bag, she asked if she could read it.

‘This is a pretty good book,’ Ginny said several hours later when they arrived at Devon station and were deboarding. ‘Can I hold onto this for the weekend? And finish reading it?’

Hermione nodded and after Ginny stuffed the book into her bag, they climbed off the train together and she spotted her father at the entrance to the platform. He was a tall man with bright red hair, yet with age, he probably wasn’t as tall as he once was and his hairline was thinning, with streaks of grey appearing. He wore glasses and had piercing blue eyes, that shone brightly at the sight of his daughter, who eagerly ran to him.

‘There’s the birthday girl!’ he said, laughing joyfully as she jumped into his open arms to hug him.

‘Hi dad!’ she said enthusiastically, holding on to him tightly and Hermione smiled sweetly at the sight of such affection.

‘And you must be—?’

‘Hermione Granger,’ Hermione said, offering her hand when the father and daughter had untangled, ‘nice to meet you, Mr Weasley.’

‘It’s Arthur Weasley,’ he said, shaking her hand politely, ‘please don’t call me Mr, I feel old enough as it is.’

Ginny giggled, Hermione felt her cheeks go pink, but the moment quickly passed as Mr Weasley offered to carry their bags to the car. He drove an old, light blue Ford Anglia, that trundled along at a rather slow pace, coughing out black smoke behind them as they went along the motorway. Mr Weasley did quite a bit of talking, he explained that he was an electrician by trade, but his real passion (‘Sad hobby, you mean,’ Ginny corrected him from the front seat), was Unidentified Flying Objects (UFOs).

‘You should see the shed,’ Ginny said rolling her eyes at Hermione, ‘the amount of useless stuff he’s accumulated over the years could overwhelm a landfill.’

The conversation turned to Hermione, who hesitated in telling Mr Weasley too much about herself, and she was rather glad when the distraction came of Ginny spotting her hometown over the hill. It was a little place called Ottery St Catchpole, with a small main street and an even smaller population. The Weasley’s lived on the other side of town, and after a struggle to get up the hill, they came to a gate which Mr Weasley pulled into, and Hermione was amazed by what she saw out of her window.

The Burrow was almost exactly how Hermione had pictured it when Ginny had given her a vague description. A bunch of small, run down houses that were stacked on top of each other, lopsided and uneven. It looked like it should have fallen over years ago. Aside from the fact that it was a health and safety concern, Hermione thought it was brilliant. It looked more homely than anything else she’d seen in her entire life.

Mr Weasley insisted on unloading the car by himself and he carried their bags up the garden path for them, pointing out the little lawn ornaments sitting under the agapanthus to Hermione. When they reached the front door, Hermione stopped dead on the threshold and admired the interior, almost as much as the exterior. Sure, it was a little small, perhaps even cosy was the right word, but this is what a home should look like. Low ceilings, cushioned sofas and chairs, and a large roaring fireplace that was set into the wall.

The door on the far side of the room opened, and a short, slightly plump, kind-looking woman appeared through it. Her hair was flaming red, and she had warm brown eyes, which were the same shade as Ginny’s. She was wiping her hands on her apron, that was covered in icing sugar (which meant she had obviously been in the middle of cooking a cake), when she spotted Hermione and came to a halt.

‘Hello?’ she asked wearily, but her eyes lit up at the sight of Ginny, who had to squeeze past to get in.

‘Hi mum,’ Ginny said, opening her arms to hug her mother, before looking back at her friend. ‘This is Hermione.’

‘Oh, hello dear,’ Mrs Weasley said kindly, moving forwards, ‘Ginny’s told us a lot about you. So lovely to meet you. You’ll have to excuse me, I must look dreadful, I’ve been baking a cake,’ she turned to her daughter, ‘which you’re not allowed to see,’ she turned back to Hermione, ‘please make yourself at home. Would you like a drink?’

‘Thank you, but I’m all right,’ Hermione said politely, ‘we had dinner and refreshments on the train.’

‘Is everyone here?’ Ginny asked her mother excitedly, looking expectantly towards the door on the far side, ‘I wanted Hermione to meet them all.’

‘No, I’m sorry sweetheart, not yet,’ Mrs Weasley said, brushing past them, ‘only Ron is here, up in his room doing who knows what, of course. The rest of your brothers won’t be here until the morning.’

‘Oh,’ Ginny said miserably, bowing her head.

‘Why don’t you show me your room?’ Hermione suggested, hoping that might help distract her disappointment.

‘That’s a lovely idea,’ Mrs Weasley said, ‘but wait in here for just a moment, I’m going to go put the cake in the fridge. I don’t want you seeing it before tomorrow night!’

Ginny rolled her eyes as her mother disappeared back into the kitchen. After they were allowed through (Hermione paused to admire a cute little grandfather clock that hung on the wall), they climbed an uneven, narrow staircase, which wound its way around the house in quite a charming manner, until they reached the first floor landing.

Ginny pushed the door to her bedroom open and crossed the landing, flicking a switch on the wall to illuminate her room. It was small, but bright. On one wall there was a large poster of a band that Hermione didn’t recognise called _The Ghastly Brothers_ , and on the other wall was an even bigger poster of the West Ham football club. A desk stood facing the open window, there was a wardrobe in the corner and the bed in the middle of the room had been moved to the right to make room for another mattress.

‘Well, it’s not much,’ Ginny said with a shrug.

‘I think it’s perfectly you,’ Hermione said smiling as she surveyed the room.

Ginny went pink.


	6. The Brothers

The following morning, the two girls went undisturbed and slept in, something that Hermione felt she needed after her week. They woke to the smell of home-made breakfast floating up through the floorboards, accompanied by several more voices than there had been in the house last night. After they dressed, they made their way downstairs, and when they reached the kitchen, they found it crammed with an overwhelming amount of people sitting around the small table.

She felt quite out of place in a room full of people with flaming red hair. She recognised them all from a photo Ginny had once shown her at work, but she was still a stranger to all of them, her head was in a muddle, and she couldn’t remember all of their names. There was a chorus of ‘ _Happy Birthday’_ that rang out at the sight of Ginny, so Hermione stood back and hesitantly joined in, feeling a little uncomfortable.

‘There’s the superstar!’ said the eldest brother, shooting from his chair to hug his little sister. ‘How is city life treating you?’

‘Oh, just fine,’ Ginny said, waving away the thought with a smug smile, ‘hey listen up everyone, I want you all to meet Hermione. She works with me at the newspaper, I’m sure I’ve mentioned her, right?’

Hermione felt her cheeks flush red a little, as a swarm of men suddenly fixed their eyes on her and waved. For Ginny, it might have felt like home, but for her, it was rather foreign. She did her best to say ‘hello’ to them all in turn without sounding pathetic, before Ginny went about introducing her brothers to her one by one.

‘This one is Bill,’ she said, still clinging onto the one that had hugged her. He was the brother with the earring and ponytail that Hermione had mistaken for Ron. ‘He works as an investment banker with the Bank of England. He deals with a lot of important people, including that one time he met with the Queen—’

‘I didn’t really meet her,’ Bill explained to Hermione with a shrug, ‘I was in a line-up once and got to shake her hand.’

‘Still, good to be able to say, isn’t its son?’ Mr Weasley asked from the head of the table. ‘ _I’ve shaken hands with the Queen_.’

‘He _also_ met a blonde French woman named Fleur,’ Ginny said, ‘a diplomat, who he is now engaged too—’

‘I she actually going to bother showing up tonight, Bill?’ Mrs Weasley asked sternly.

‘Yes mum, she’ll be here, don’t worry,’ Bill said casually, getting back to his seat.

‘You wait until you meet her,’ Ginny said, lowering her voice so that only Hermione could hear, ‘she’s a real piece of work.’

Ginny cleared her throat and moved on to her next brother, whose skin was covered in tattoos. ‘This is Charlie,’ she said proudly as he squeezed her in a hug, ‘he came all the way from Indonesia to celebrate his little sister’s birthday!’

‘I wouldn’t have missed it for the world!’ Charlie said proudly. ‘It’s not every day your little sister turns twenty-one!’

‘Charlie is a Zoologist,’ she said, attempting to shift conversation away from her age, ‘his speciality is Komodo Dragons, you see? That’s why he’s stationed overseas.’

‘Komodo Dragons? Really?’ Hermione asked curiously, intrigued with the though. ‘Can I ask why you chose to specialise in them?’

‘I don’t know,’ Charlie said honestly, scratching his chin, ‘there’s just something about them. I’ve never been able to put my finger on it, but I just feel like I was meant to breed them, you know?’

‘I did wish you lived closer to home, though, dear,’ Mrs Weasley said to him sadly, as she placed a large plate of bacon on the table, ‘we hardly see you anymore. And those tattoos—’

‘I think they’re cool,’ Ginny said, admiring her brother’s forearm, ‘you know, now that I’m into my twenties—’

‘Don’t you even think about it,’ Mrs Weasley said warningly, pointing a spatula with a piece of egg dangling off it at her daughter, before prodding her husband on the back, ‘tell her.’

Mr Weasley put todays’ copy of _The Marauder Times_ down and cleared his throat. ‘Our daughter is an adult, Molly, what can we do—?’

‘Anyway,’ Ginny said, attempting to move on as Mrs Weasley opened her mouth to retort, ‘the tall one hiding over there is Percy.’

Percy couldn’t be more unlike Bill and Charlie. He was the definition of a pencil pusher, with large bottleneck glasses and freckly skin. He looked up briefly from the political section of the newspaper to incline his head, before continuing to read it.

‘He is the only one in our entire family to complete a degree at Oxford,’ Ginny explained to Hermione, ‘to study Political Science of all things. Well, it’s got him a job in the House of Commons, so mum and dad aren’t complaining.’

‘Ginny,’ said one of the twins, and now that Hermione saw them in real life, she was quite shocked at just how identical they were, ‘no one wants to hear about Percy.’

‘Yeah,’ agreed the other twin, ‘tell your hot friend about us!’

Ginny sighed and put out two hands, gesturing to the twins. ‘Fred and George,’ she said, pointing them out, ‘are you two still persisting with your stand-up comedy routine—?’

‘Of course,’ Fred said proudly, puffing out his chest.

‘Why wouldn’t we be?’ George asked, acting equally confident.

‘We’re bound to get our big break eventually,’ Fred said boldly.

‘We do three shows a week at a little comedy theatre in London,’ George explained to Hermione.

‘As well as a show in Manchester every other fortnight,’ Fred added formally.

‘And every now and then,’ George said, ‘we come back to our old stomping grounds at Ottery St Catchpole and host an evening or two.’

‘You should come see us in action some time,’ Fred suggested with a wink.

‘Oh, I would love to—’ Hermione said at first, but she looked past them at Ginny, who shook her head, ‘but, I’m really busy with work, and err—’

‘It’s all right, dear, no one expects you to go see them,’ Mrs Weasley said frustratingly, turning to face the twins, ‘you two have been toiling away at that stupid little routine for years and getting nowhere. When are you going to quit joking around and do something with your lives!’

‘Mum, we’ve told you, joking is what we know,’ Fred said defensively.

‘It’s what we’re best at,’ George said in agreement.

‘We don’t live in this house anymore,’ Fred folded his arms confidently.

‘We don’t have to do what you say,’ said George finally, and they turned their backs on her.

Mrs Weasley threw her hands up in the air and returned to cooking breakfast. Hermione found herself thinking, if finishing each other’s sentences is the comedy that they were hoping to build their careers on, it was no wonder they were flopping as hard as they were.

‘I’m Ron, by the way,’ said the last brother after several moments of silence, when it seemed abundantly clear that Ginny wasn’t going to bother introducing him. ‘My sister probably hasn’t told you, but I’m actually on my way to becoming a Grandmaster at Chess.’

‘Really?’ Hermione asked, sounding impressed.

Ginny snorted loudly. ‘Don’t talk nonsense, Ron,’ she said at him gleefully, ‘you work with dad. You’re a sparky, his junior assistant no less and you spend your weekends down in the village playing Chess against pensioners in the park.’

Ron’s face went red. ‘She didn’t have to know that!’ he said angrily before storming off.

Hermione blinked. As she watched him go, she found herself speechless, at how someone could be so bashful and so rude, at something so little. If she was being honest, Hermione could not see herself talking to Ron Weasley again.

‘Don’t mind him,’ Bill said coolly, as the rest of them returned to the kitchen table, ‘you get used to his short circuit after a while.’

‘I couldn’t imagine how,’ Hermione said under her breath, as Ginny nudged her, and they went and joined the family at the cramp table.

Hermione found herself wedged between Ginny and Percy, she had to bend her elbow at a weird angle in order to cut into her sausage, but otherwise she enjoyed herself. She found Charlie to be a great storyteller, she couldn’t believe she knew so little about Komodo Dragon’s and she was fascinated. So much so, that when it came time for her to talk about herself, she went blank.

Ginny saved her when she asked if she wanted to take a walk and go on a tour of the surrounding fields. They took a path up towards a large beech tree on the nearby hill and Ginny began to point out the landmarks of interest in the distance. Eventually they made their way back to the Burrow to get ready for the party.


	7. The Diplomatic Party

Hermione stared at her reflection in the body-sized mirror that sat in the corner of Ginny’s bedroom. The outfit that she’d picked out for the party from her wardrobe back at home, had looked infinitely better when she’d tried it on in front of her mirror than it did now. She wore a floaty, amber-coloured dress that went just past her knees and had matching high-heels. Ginny had loaned her several butterfly clips that were holding back her mane of bushy brown hair.

She kept making faces in the mirror, and readjusting her front, not at all happy with how the ensemble turned out. There wasn’t anything she could do about it now, the party was due to start within the hour, and Ginny’s mother had already declared that guests had already begun to arrive and were waiting for them downstairs.

‘Well, I think you look great,’ Ginny said, when Hermione had made the comment that she was unhappy with her appearance.

Ginny was sitting on her bed. She wore a rather low-cut, shiny black dress, with matching high-heeled shoes that she was currently attempting to cram her feet into. Her waist-long, silky red hair had been twisted into a knot at the back, and still reached past her shoulders. Hermione came over to help strap up Ginny’s shoes, which were quite obviously one size too small for her at least, and then together they made their way downstairs.

One of the first guests that Hermione met was Ginny’s soccer coach, a man by the name of Oliver Wood, who seemed like a very nice, easy going person. However, Ginny assured her that she’d never met a more driven, more competitive man in her life, declaring that his obsession with winning can at times be a hindrance to the team, but there was no better man for the job.

As more of Ginny’s friends arrived, Hermione began to get the feeling of being out of place again. It was as if the entire soccer club had been invited; there were tall, well-built people everywhere, all with the same interests and everything to talk about. At first, Ginny did her best to try and chaperone Hermione around and introduce her to people, but after a couple of Butterbeers, and a few lingering conversations, Hermione eventually stopped standing at her elbow and wandered into the kitchen.

Poor Mrs Weasley wasn’t having a night off. She was manning the oven, and sending Fred, George and Ron amongst the guests with trays of finger food. Hermione tried not to get in the way and spotted Bill and Charlie on the far side of the room, talking with a pretty blonde woman who wore a lovely, sparkling silver dress, that dropped all the way to the floor and was split along the side to just above the knee.

‘Hermione,’ Bill said, waving her over, and putting his arm around the girl, ‘I’d like you to meet Fleur Delacour.’

‘Hello,’ Hermione said to her nicely, smiling at her politely.

Fleur, for a split moment, seemed to curl her nose up at Hermione, before she returned the smile. ‘Charmed, I’m sure,’ she said flatly in a heavy French accent.

‘What part of France are you from?’ Hermione asked curiously at an attempt of making conversation.

‘Pari, of course,’ Fleur responded dismissively, standing at her full height, ‘I am ze Diplomat to ze Department of Eeconomics. Where else would you ‘ave me live?’

‘Oh, I didn’t know that,’ Hermione said truthfully, ‘well, you’d live near Versailles, obviously.’

Fleur raised her eyebrows. For a split second, she almost seemed impressed. She turned to Bill and said, ‘zis one is _intelligente_. She is a friend of Ginevra’s?’

‘They work together,’ Bill said, before turning back to Hermione, ‘you’ve been to France then, Hermione?’

‘My parents and I go skiing in the French Alps all the time,’ Hermione said, looking expectantly at Fleur, ‘we go to Grenoble mostly, mainly because my parents love it there. I’m sure you’ve been?’

‘Of course,’ Fleur shrugged, again with that dismissive attitude, ‘Chamonix is superior, zough, if you can afford to go zere, zhat is.’

Bill cleared his throat. ‘So, what do your parents do, Hermione?’ he asked, attempted to mask the rudeness of his fiancée.

‘They’re dentists,’ Hermione said, happy for the change in conversation, ‘they own a practice together, on the outskirts of London.’

‘That must have been handy,’ Charlie said suddenly, who had thus far been only an observer in the conversation. ‘Free dental?’

‘I guess,’ Hermione said shrugging, ‘I hate my teeth, my two front ones have always been too large.’

‘Yes, we’ve noticed,’ Fleur said coldly, getting a look from all three of them.

Silence followed these words. Hermione looked insulted, Charlie looked awkward, Bill looked sorry and Fleur looked unmoved.

‘Hermione! Hey, Hermione!’

Ginny’s carrying voice was once again the saving grace. Hermione swivelled towards the sound, and she could see her redheaded friend, waving to her from the packed living room, a gigantic grin appearing across her face.

‘Come in here! I want you to meet my boyfriend!’

‘Boyfriend?’ Hermione asked, blinking in confusion and looking around curiously at Bill and Charlie. ‘I’ve never heard Ginny speak of a boyfriend before.’

‘Yes, he’s new apparently,’ Charlie told her with a shrug, ‘but she’s quite fond of him. I think he owns his own business and they met in his store.’

Hermione raised her eyebrows. As she made her way back across the kitchen, she got this strange feeling in her stomach, like she’d missed a step going down a flight of stairs. So, Ginny had met someone, recently, a person who owned their own store, just like Hermione had. It had to be a coincidence, didn’t it?

As she made her way towards Ginny, fearing the worst, the face of the owner of the bookstore flashed before her eyes. It teased her, knowing that was who she was expecting to find, and when it went away and she could see again, she was faced with something completely different.

A darker face, with a brilliant white smile and dazzling blue eyes stared at her. His thick, dark curly hair stood on end like an afro, and it gave extra height to the young man who was already at least a foot taller than Ginny. He had that all too familiar athletic build that pretty much everyone at the party had, and Hermione was reminded that this was the type of guy Ginny would go after, not the owner of a bookstore.

‘This is Dean,’ Ginny said with a smirk, completely oblivious to Hermione’s thoughts as she patted her boyfriend on the arm. ‘Dean, you remember me mentioning Hermione, right?’

‘Oh, yeah,’ Dean said coolly, pointing at her, ‘you’re that co-worker who is a massive bookworm—’

‘Dean,’ Ginny hissed under her breath.

‘You’re always carrying books around,’ he went on unashamedly, ‘and spend your weekends, sitting in different bookstores—’

‘Be nice to her,’ Ginny said, punching his arm, ‘I’m sorry about him—’

‘I’m just pulling her leg,’ Dean said coolly, shrugging his shoulders, ‘I myself like reading the odd book or two now and again—’

A derisive laughter escaped the lips of his girlfriend.

‘ _The Complete History of West Ham_ doesn’t count,’ Ginny said, continuing to laugh, despite no one joining in with her.

‘I think it does count,’ Hermione said defensively, she found herself liking Dean, despite the fact he initially mocked her, ‘reading about a hobby should count. My hobby is reading, and I can’t exactly read about that, can I?’

Dean beamed and looked around at Ginny, who stopped laughing and rolled her eyes.

‘Please don’t defend him, Hermione, you’ll just feed his ego,’ she said, playfully shoving him, ‘one compliment and he thinks he owns the room.’

Dean opened his mouth to retort, but just then the doorbell rang, and captured the attention of half the room. Ginny turned her head towards the front door, which had been opened by the person standing nearest to it, and when she saw who was on the other side of it, her eyes lit up. 

‘No way!’ she yelled ecstatically, brushing past her boyfriend and Hermione, and heading across the living room to the front door. ‘You came! You do love me!’

Hermione watched the redhead throw her arms around a short Asian girl. She wore a tight, strapless violet skirt with matching shoes, her long black hair had been swept to the side and held in place with butterfly clips. When they disentangled themselves from the hug, Hermione noticed her strong build, and it was obvious this was another soccer teammate.

And then, just as Hermione went to return to the conversation with Dean, she did a double-take and had to look again. She felt her jaw hit the floor. Standing to the left of the girl, looking thoroughly dashing in a full black suit and tie, was the last person that Hermione would ever expect to turn up at a party like this.

The owner of her new favourite bookstore.

‘Oh, Cho,’ Ginny said hurriedly, when Hermione’s feet had automatically carried her to them out of curiosity and the two friends spotted her, ‘this is Hermione Granger,’ she turned to Hermione, ‘Cho play’s soccer with me.’

‘Hi,’ Cho said, smiling at her.

‘Hermione,’ the bookstore owner said coolly, running a hand through his jet-black hair, ‘that’s a pretty name—’

‘Oh!’ Ginny said with a laugh, smacking her head. ‘Sorry, how rude of me, Hermione, this is Cho’s fiancée—’

‘Harry Potter,’ he said politely, putting out his hand.


	8. The Promise

There was an awkward pause, whilst Hermione and Harry stared at each other and shook hands, unsure what to say. What was there to say? Hermione had so many questions, a lot of which she didn’t fancy asking in front of Cho. It was a lot of information to process at once, finding out the man’s name, discovering that he is engaged to be married, and to one of Ginny’s best friends no less.

Meanwhile, Ginny and Cho were completely oblivious to the awkward moment and had continued talking.

‘How come you’re here?’ Ginny asked curiously, facing Cho. ‘You said you probably weren’t coming.’

‘I wasn’t going too if Harry couldn’t,’ Cho said, explaining herself, ‘but when I told him how much coming to this party tonight would mean to me, he decided to close his business down for the weekend, and drive me here himself.’

‘Awe, what a guy,’ she said fondly, turning to look at Harry, ‘that was a very nice gesture Harry, thank you.’

‘It’s my pleasure,’ Harry said, his eyes flicking at Hermione. ‘I’m glad I did it.’

‘Now, remind me, because I’m sure Cho has told me loads of times and I just keep forgetting,’ Ginny said, letting out a little laugh, ‘but what work is it you do again—?’

‘Huh? What?’ Hermione called out randomly, making the others jump as she looked towards the kitchen. ‘Oh, I’m coming—! I think your mum is calling me—’

‘I didn’t hear her,’ Ginny said, turning to look, but Hermione ignored her.

‘Excuse me, won’t you?’ Hermione said to Harry and Cho politely, and then she briskly walked away, through the buzzing crowd of the living room, past the dozen or so people in the kitchen, and then out into the yard, which she crossed in a heartbeat, and out the gate onto the road.

She took a few more steps and then stopped dead. Where was she going? There was nothing for her down in Ottery St Catchpole or beyond. But now there was nothing for her back the other way, either. Still, she wasn’t about to walk ten miles, in heels no less, to get the train back into London. She contemplated it for a minute, before turning back, and settling for a seat on the low garden wall of The Burrow. She breathed in the warm summer’s air, and then, she bowed her head and let it all out. Tears, which she had not produced for weeks, streamed down her face.

What was wrong with her? Crying over someone she met once, someone she hardly knew, who had been the first handsome man in however long to be a little flirtatious with her. She knew he had only been charming in an attempt to get her to return to the store, that was just good business. He had probably thought that he would not see her again.

She finished her crying, which was over as quickly as it started, just in time. She heard the unmistakable sounds of soft, thudding footsteps approaching her through the grass, she did her best to wipe the evidence away from her cheeks and then looked up. Harry’s soft smile made her feel instantly better. He made no comment about the state of her, he simply stood there with a couple of Butterbeers as a peace offering to her.

Cho was nowhere to be seen.

‘Hi,’ he said calmly, holding out one of the bottles for her to take.

‘Hi,’ Hermione said, she tried to mask the shakiness in her voice as she took the bottle from him and shifted over to let him sit down.

‘Sorry if I scared you away from the party,’ he said, as he untwisted the top of his Butterbeer, took a sip and stared off into the distance. ‘You’re the last person I expected to find at a birthday party full of soccer players.’

‘I know,’ Hermione said admittingly, she took a sip of her drink too, her body found the liquid to be satisfying after all that crying. ‘I’m not quite sure what I’m doing here, either.’

Harry smiled. ‘Want to talk about it?’

Hermione looked anxiously over her shoulder, expecting to see Cho standing there with her arms crossed and eyes narrowed at Harry. ‘Won’t she notice you’re gone?’ she asked curiously, she was sure he knew who she meant.

‘As far as she’s concerned, I’m just bringing you a drink,’ Harry said shrugging, holding his Butterbeer, ‘besides, I think she was too preoccupied with something else, to notice me gone.’

‘Preoccupied with what?’ Hermione asked, but as soon as the question left her lips, a chorus of Happy Birthday rang out through the kitchen window towards them and they both looked back towards the house too.

There was a round of applause and Harry looked back around at Hermione. They began to talk. Hermione briefly explained how she came to know Ginny, that they worked together and that she’d been invited to come to the party at the last minute. Harry told her that he and Cho attended Cambridge at the same time, he was studying Literature and she was studying Sport Science. They had met, by chance, in the Library and without going into too much detail for her sake, he explained that it had all been physical attraction. 

There had been no need for talking, he had not known she was a soccer player until days later, when he had been staring out of a classroom window, and he had seen her running around on the field. And although his interest in soccer was limited, the relationship continued, because of that real physical attraction that only comes around so often.

That was why they were now engaged.

‘Anyway,’ Harry said with another sip of his Butterbeer, thinking it would be better to change the subject, ‘how’s that book going?’

‘I finished it,’ Hermione replied automatically, ‘and I actually went back to your store the day after to pay for it, but you weren’t there. I met Neville though.’

Harry laughed. ‘He’s a good lad,’ he said, before turning to look at her and raise an eyebrow, ‘so you have already paid for it?’

‘No,’ Hermione said truthfully, ‘I told him I wanted to pay you for it, that we had a deal, and that I wanted to stick to it.’

‘Oh,’ Harry let a small smile escape his lips, ‘so then the book is—?’

‘Upstairs,’ Hermione said, and her cheeks turned a little pink as Harry roared with laughter.

‘You’re cute,’ he said, but when he looked up, and saw that she wasn’t sharing his smile, he straightened his face and blinked at her. ‘What?’

Hermione hesitated. ‘Nothing,’ she said, looking away and sipping her Butterbeer.

‘No, tell me,’ Harry said, leaning forward curiously, ‘come on.’

Hermione sighed. ‘It’s just…’ she shrugged and put her Butterbeer down, ‘this didn’t work out the way I was hoping.’

‘What do you mean?’ Harry asked, blinking at her.

‘I mean this,’ she said, making an odd movement with her hands, ‘it isn’t how I expected it to happen.’

‘You just gestured to both of us,’ Harry said, sounding confused.

‘Yes, I know,’ Hermione said slowly, ‘let me explain.’

She began to paint him a picture of the thought’s swimming around in her head. She had visualised returning to his store with the book, preferably when he was the only one there and then she would have made a scene about paying him properly for the book. Then she would have demanded to know his name, perhaps she might have made conversation, asked if he enjoyed going to the theatre, and then she would have asked if he would like to go with her, and then a coffee, and see how things panned out.

‘But now,’ she said in frustration, ‘I might as well retrieve the book from upstairs, give it back to you, pay you for any trouble, and look for a new bookstore first thing Monday morning. Though, maybe I shouldn’t bother anymore. I have the worst luck with bookstores.’

Harry took a minute to digest her words.

‘I don’t want you to look for another bookstore,’ he said seriously, ‘I’d like you to be able to enjoy my bookstore for what it is, no matter my relationship status. Surely that’s not going to stop you from sitting in the corner of my store and reading a book, is it?’

‘I guess not—’

‘And just because I’m engaged,’ Harry went on, ‘that doesn’t mean we can’t do all those things you pictured as friends. I’d love to go to the theatre. It’s not really Cho’s thing—’

‘Oh, well, I don’t want too—’

‘Listen,’ Harry said firmly, stopping her in her tracks, ‘for now, I’d like you to just promise that you won’t give up on my store, that you’ll come back and pay for that book.’

Hermione hesitated. ‘Okay,’ she said eventually, ‘I can promise that.’

‘Good,’ Harry said, standing up, ‘I get the feeling that Hermione Granger is the type of person who is good at keeping promises.’


	9. The Problem

Hermione Granger had a problem.

She found herself unable to stop thinking about a man that was engaged, to a girl that was much prettier than she was, and she didn’t quite know what to do about it. He had told her that his relationship status shouldn’t dictate whether she spent time at his shop or not. But if she was there, browsing his precious books, and discussing all the latest best reads, who knows where that would lead? 

And there were friendships on the line everywhere she looked. Starting with the person sitting across from her, who was close friends with _the problem_ , and Hermione could afford to offend her least of all. Ginny was typing away at her computer without a care in the world, still riding the highs of her birthday weekend, when Hermione finally decided to turn to her, having spent all morning thinking up what to say.

‘Ginny,’ Hermione said to get her attention, ‘I have a problem.’

‘Yeah, I think the system is down,’ Ginny said immediately, she didn’t look up, ‘my computer has been running slow all morning too.’

‘No,’ Hermione said firmly, and the redhead looked up, ‘I mean, I have a real-life problem, that I need urgent help with.’

‘In that case, just buy the extra-large ones, Hermione,’ Ginny said out of context with a shrug, ‘that’s what helps me on the bad days.’

‘Ginny, what— oh my goodness, no,’ Hermione shook her head, ‘would you just listen? There’s something I want to talk about.’

Ginny nodded, put up a hand, finished the sentence she was writing and then swivelled in her chair to face Hermione.

‘What’s up?’ she asked, she’d been unable to wipe the smile off her face all morning.

‘Okay,’ Hermione said, looking around briefly to ensure they could not be overheard, ‘you remember me telling you last week, that I found the loveliest little bookstore across town?’

‘The one that you said was perfect?’

‘Yes, well,’ Hermione took a deep breath, ‘there’s this problem. You see, I think I might be— falling for the owner of the store.’

A small smile appeared on Ginny’s face and in an instant, she pushed with her legs, so that her chair rolled across the floor and halted with a thud against Hermione’s desk.

‘That’s a good thing, Hermione, not a problem,’ she said happily, suddenly she was immersed in the conversation. ‘Is he handsome? Why don’t you ask him out? When do I get to meet him—?’

‘It’s complicated,’ Hermione said, which wasn’t a lie, but Ginny raised her eyebrows in doubt, ‘I don’t really know how to explain _the problem_ to you.’

‘You just have to suck it up and ask him,’ Ginny said, again she was misinterpreting, ‘if he’s not going to make a move then you should!’

‘Ginny, that’s not _the problem_ ,’ Hermione said with a heavy sigh, ‘it’s something bigger, I think you might have to just come with me to the bookstore and see what _the problem_ is for yourself.’

‘We can’t just go for a trip across town in the middle of the day, Hermione,’ Ginny said impatiently, sitting up properly in her chair. ‘Just tell me.’

Hermione, who had absentmindedly been biting the end of her pen nervously, put it down and took a breath.

‘All right, fine,’ she said finally, facing her friend, ‘ _the problem_ is—’ 

‘Miss Weasley!’

Ginny and Hermione jumped from their seats into a standing position, as Sirius wandered out of the office door towards them, with Remus idly in tow.

‘Good morning, Mr Black, Mr Remus,’ Ginny said promptly, inclining her head.

‘What’s this I hear about a birthday party of yours on the weekend?’ Sirius asked of her demandingly, wandering over to stand about two feet from her. ‘How come we weren’t invited?’

There was a very awkward pause, as Ginny blinked into Sirius’ stern face, and then she turned her head to look over at Remus, who was leaning casually against the door frame on the threshold of the office.

‘Well,’ Ginny said coolly, as Sirius raised his eyebrows at her, ‘no offence, sir, but who in their right mind would want the two old codgers they work for, wandering around at their twenty-first?’

Hermione was shocked at her audacity. There was yet another pause, as Sirius’ eyebrows disappeared into the unkept blackness of his hairline, whilst Remus bored face showed a look of surprise. Then, out of nowhere, startling both Ginny and Hermione, Sirius began roaring with laughter.

‘You’re a pistol, Weasley!’ he said, still laughing as he swept aside the untidy hair from his eyes. ‘The cheek— the nerve! You remind me of this girl, who Remus and I went to high-school with, she was pretty good-looking too—’

Remus cleared his throat loudly, getting the attention of Hermione, Ginny and most importantly Sirius, who looked around in alarm and then took a step backwards.

‘Oops, right, sorry, never mind,’ Sirius said quickly, clearing his throat also. ‘So anyway, what can Remus and I do today to make up for missing your birthday, huh?’

‘Well, actually,’ Hermione said, speaking up, ‘Ginny and I were hoping we could have a long lunch and go to that signing event with _The Ghastly Brothers_ across town.’

Sirius blinked at Hermione and then whipped his head back to look at Ginny.

‘Is that how you’d like to spend your day?’ he asked curiously, yet again raising his eyebrows. ‘An event signing?’

‘Yes,’ Ginny said, catching on quickly, ‘well, you see it’s all the way on the other side of London, and I’m sure there will be a queue, so if we could take the rest of the day off, then I’d be quite content.’

Sirius shrugged and looked at Remus, who nodded.

‘Sure, that’s fine by us. We’ll see you girls tomorrow, then,’ Sirius said, he tipped his invisible hat and then he and Remus returned to their office.

In case they decided to change their minds, Hermione and Ginny gathered their things quickly and left the building. Hermione took Ginny along the now familiar route of two train rides and a taxi to the bookstore. Ginny made the off-hand comment that she thought maybe she recognised the area, but she never made a connection, and soon they were walking in the front door. 

‘Well, it’s a lovely little bookstore, Hermione,’ Ginny said, looking around vaguely, ‘but I still don’t see what _the problem_ is. Besides the fact that you have to travel all the way across London to get here.’

Ginny picked up a book on the nearest table and flipped through it.

‘The bookstore itself isn’t exactly _the problem_ ,’ Hermione said carefully, her eyes were darting around for a sign of Harry, ‘nor is _the problem_ the time in which it takes to get here. I keep telling you, it’s the owner of this bookstore I’ve fallen for that’s _the problem_ , and when you see him, you’ll understand why.’

Ginny looked curiously at her friend. Then she looked around, just as the door that led out to the back of the shop opened, and out came a figure carrying an armful of books that slightly shielded their face. When they spotted the two girls loitering by the front door, they wandered over and shifted the pile of books to the side, revealing their face.

‘Hello Hermione,’ Harry said brightly, before turning to Ginny, ‘and hello Ginny. What a nice surprise this is, seeing you both here!’

‘Harry?’ Ginny asked, she still seemed oblivious to the whole thing. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’

Harry gave her a funny look, before glancing at Hermione, who was admiring a nearby shelf.

‘Well, seems as though I own the place, I figure, I probably should be here during working hours,’ he said as a joke, but he didn’t get any laughs.

‘Wait,’ Ginny gave Harry a stunned look, the gears were beginning to work over inside her head, ‘ _you’re_ the owner of this bookstore?’

‘Yes,’ he said happily, as Ginny was beginning to turn a little white in the face. ‘I guess I never got around to telling you that on Saturday night.’

‘Well, someone should have told me,’ Ginny said, her eyes flashed dangerously in Hermione’s direction.

‘You’ll be here to pay for that book,’ Harry said at Hermione, ‘let me just finish putting these away and I’ll be right with you.’

‘Do you need any help?’ Hermione asked curiously, as Ginny was rendered speechless.

‘Thank you, but I’m a little untrustworthy at the moment,’ Harry said bitterly, ‘I let Cho put some away books last night, and now there are alphabetical misfiles everywhere.’

He rolled his eyes and walked away, leaving a nervous looking Hermione in only Ginny’s presence, who had finally put all of the jigsaw pieces together and was narrowing her eyes at Hermione with her teeth and fists clenched.

‘Harry?’ Ginny asked, gawping at her friend. ‘You’ve fallen for Harry? Hermione— he’s taken!’

‘I know,’ she said sadly, turning to look towards the isle of books Harry had disappeared into. ‘That’s _the problem._ ’


	10. The Panic Button

Ginny was pacing back and forth in front of Hermione, muttering to herself as her friend nervously watched on, waiting for her to say something. They were still standing in the little area at the front of the shop, Harry was still putting books away in the _Geography_ section and the bookstore was empty. What Hermione wouldn’t give for someone like Neville to happen upon the scene right now and dodge that inevitable bullet, that was coming her way in the form of a petite redhead.

‘What are you intending to do?’ Ginny asked quietly, continuing to pace. ‘You’re not going to ruin their relationship, are you?’

‘Of course not,’ Hermione said firmly, ‘I would never do that.’

‘So, then you’ll forget about him?’ she asked hopefully, raising her eyebrow. ‘You’ll move on? You could find yourself another bookstore and another handsome owner. Marry _him_ instead.’

Hermione said nothing. That was all well and good in theory, but how was she supposed to just forget about someone? She couldn’t turn her feelings on and off like a tap. That’s not how thing’s worked in the real world. It’s not something she had control over.

Harry returned with a smile, if he had heard any of their conversation, he was very good at acting completely oblivious. He moved around behind the front desk, moved a few stacks of books out of the way and looked up expectantly. Hermione was looking rather flushed, whilst previously unseen wrinkles had formed along Ginny’s forehead and she was shooting warning glances at Hermione.

‘So,’ Harry said, still smiling, ‘that book?’

‘Right,’ Hermione laughed nervously, after it took a second to remember what he was talking about.

It wasn’t how she had imagined paying him for the book at all. She fumbled around uselessly in her bag for ages, whilst Ginny tapped her foot impatiently and Harry just watched, making her cheeks burn a crimson colour. She eventually fished it from the bottom, placed it with a slap onto the counter of the front desk and then it was another ten seconds or so before she realised she had to get her purse out to pay for it as well.

‘Sorry,’ she said to Harry, who was grinning broadly as she dug into her bag again, ‘I’m a little flustered, Ginny is in a bit of a hurry, I’m afraid we can’t stop and talk.’

‘What’s there to talk about?’ Ginny asked warningly, but they ignored her.

‘So, where have you girls been today?’ Harry asked politely, in an attempt to flow some conversation. ‘Had the day off work, have we?’

‘Our bosses didn’t need us this afternoon,’ Hermione explained to him, Ginny was now at her elbow, carefully observing the entire conversation, ‘and there was this new thing, this handsome little— clothes shop— that just opened up around the corner and I wanted to show Ginny.’

Harry raised his eyebrows curiously as Hermione handed over the money, but he didn’t question it.

‘Well then, this is now officially yours,’ Harry said, flamboyantly handing over the book. ‘Now, if I remember correctly, this is the part where you were going to ask if I’d like to go to the theatre with you,’ he glanced sideways at Ginny, ‘as friends, of course.’

‘Oh—’ Hermione hesitated, she looked around in concern at Ginny, who had raised her eyebrows.

‘The theatre?’ Ginny asked in disbelief. ‘Why can’t you go with Cho?’

‘I suggested it once, it isn’t really her thing,’ Harry said with a shrug, ‘she prefers those big Hollywood movies stars. You know the ones. Tall and handsome. She has big posters of them, hanging up in her apartment.

‘Besides,’ Harry said, looking at Hermione and smiling at her, ‘Hermione has said that she might like to go with me one time, as friends, which I’d be happy to do.’

‘Did she now?’ Ginny asked impatiently, clicking her tongue at her friend.

‘Well, circumstances have changed,’ Hermione said awkwardly, staring at her feet. ‘I’m busy, you’re busy, I think maybe now we just shouldn’t go.’

‘I understand,’ Harry said, although he did sound disappointed and he gave Ginny a brief glance. ‘Well then, was there anything else I can help you with today?’

‘Nope,’ Ginny said, seizing Hermione under the armpit and beginning to drag her away, ‘we’re good. Thanks.’

‘You’ll be coming back though, right?’ Harry asked hopefully, looking more at Hermione than Ginny, who cast him a helpless glance, with Ginny watching her like a hawk.

‘Maybe,’ Ginny called out, wrenching open the door and attempting to push Hermione out.

‘But we’re having a Spring-Cleaning Sale next week,’ Harry said quickly, catching their attention, ‘everything is half off!’

‘It’s Autumn,’ Ginny said, sounding rather amused, and for a split second forgot about her intention of removing Hermione from the store.

‘That’s the beauty of it,’ Harry said, tapping his nose, ‘no one else is having a Spring-Cleaning Sale, are they?’

Hermione laughed. Ginny rolled her eyes. Harry waved them goodbye as they exited the store and began to walk away. A minute of silence followed, as Hermione allowed the gravity of the situation to sink in for Ginny, who was muttering annoyances under her breath. They walked up the block, around the corner, and were beginning to make their way towards the entrance to the underground, when Ginny stopped on the curb.

‘Let’s go over there,’ she said, pointing to a small product store on the corner, ‘I need to get a couple of things. You don’t mind, do you?’

Hermione made a noise but said nothing.

‘Good,’ Ginny said, and she quickened her pace across the street, ignoring the oncoming traffic, a barrage or swear words from a cab driver who had had to stop short and made a beamline for the store.

‘You know Ginny,’ Hermione said a minute later, once they’d made it into the store and were browsing, ‘you were very rude back there.’

Ginny snorted. ‘And the cab driver wasn’t?’ she asked, again she had her wires crossed over what Hermione had been referencing.

‘I don’t mean him,’ Hermione said, as Ginny began to inspect different bottles of shampoo, ‘I’m talking about Harry. He was just trying to be friendly and have a civil conversation with us. There was no need for you to drag me away like that—’

‘Please,’ Ginny rolled her eyes and put one of the bottles back in frustration, ‘you were flirting with him again.’

‘I was not,’ Hermione said defensively, ‘we were not—’

‘Come on, Hermione,’ Ginny said, settling on a lavender flavoured shampoo, ‘I suppose your suggestion to go to the theatre with him was totally platonic?’

‘Perhaps not when I originally had the thought,’ Hermione admitted formally, ‘but that was before I knew he was engaged. But would it be so bad if we just went as friends?’

‘Yes, Hermione, it would,’ Ginny said, turning to face her friend, ‘he has a fiancée now, the only female friends he’s allowed to have, are Cho’s friends.’

Hermione opened her mouth to retort but came up with nothing, so she closed it. Ginny had a short glimpse of victory in her eyes, then she narrowed them at her friend and led the way back to the front of the shop.

There was a single figure at the checkout desk, a tall, thin man with sallow skin, a large, hooked nose and he was dressed rather horribly in black. He had shoulder-length, greasy dark hair which framed his face in curtains, and when they got closer, his half-smile revealed yellowish, uneven teeth, curling lips and empty, penetrating eyes that resembled Hermione of the dark tunnels in the underground.

‘Good afternoon,’ he spoke in a soft, drawling voice that made the hairs on the back of their necks stand on end.

‘Err, hi,’ Ginny said nervously, shifting her feet forwards with the products, ‘just these, thanks.’

The man leered over her like an overgrown bat, before beginning to run the items though the scanner. He was in the middle of putting them into a brown paper bag when a loud voice rang out, making all three of them jump.

‘Severus!’

A pompous store manager came waddling over with something green and white flopping around in his hand.

‘What have I told you about filling the vases in the front window with lilies?’ he asked, brandishing them at him angrily.

‘Not to, sir,’ Severus said miserably, bowing his head, ‘sorry, sir.’

‘The owner likes roses,’ the store manager said, throwing the lilies at Severus, whilst Hermione and Ginny gasped inaudibly. ‘What is your fascination with lilies anyway?’

‘I don’t know, sir,’ Severus said in response, shuffling his feet, ‘I just like them.’

The store manager sighed. ‘You just… like them?’

He stormed off. Ginny quickly paid for her products and then she and Hermione hurried out of there, just as Severus carefully picked up the lilies from the floor and laid them out lovingly on the counter in front of him.


	11. The Unbreakable Vow

Hermione knew that Ginny meant well.

She put herself in the redhead’s shoes, facing the situation that one of her best friends had become attracted to a man already engaged to another of her best friends. It was a difficult situation to be in, one that Hermione knew couldn’t be solved simply by never returning to the bookstore. However, an alternative solution didn’t come to her, and to appease Ginny’s wishes, she didn’t return to the shop for the rest of the week.

She put her energy into her work instead, whilst Ginny constantly talked about everything going on in her life that was unrelated to books. Hermione just went along agreeing with everything she had to say, barely listening.

Then Ginny said something that made Hermione look up.

‘—we actually have a very important weekend,’ she was saying, she knew Hermione hated talking about soccer, but she was so focussed on not talking about books that she forgot. ‘We’re playing against a team in the Scottish league and then a team in the Irish league. It’s a promotional thing, showcasing women in sport, in Great Britain. Anyway, our coach has hired us a bus, and we’re going to be gone all weekend!’

‘All weekend?’ Hermione asked curiously, trying to be subtle. ‘The whole team?’

‘Yeah, there’s twenty-two of us going, it’s going to be so much fun!’ Ginny said excitedly, bouncing in her chair. ‘We’re leaving tonight at six. We should reach Edinburgh at about two in the morning, weather permitting, then we’ll have a good sleep and then play late afternoon. Then we’ll get back on the bus and head for Dublin, we’ll probably get there around midnight, maybe later if we stop somewhere for dinner and then we’ll sleep and play again in the afternoon!

‘We should get back Monday afternoon,’ Ginny took a breath and looked expectantly at Hermione. ‘That means you’ll be here on your own that day. But Mr Black and Mr Lupin know about it and said it would be okay.’

Ginny was grinning at Hermione. She half-grinned back, for all Ginny knew, her smile was infectious.

‘You’re not back until Monday afternoon?’ Hermione bit her lip.

‘Yeah, why?’

‘No reason.’

It could only have taken something serious for the smile to be wiped from Ginny’s face. But in a moment of realisation, her heart appeared to sink, her mouth flipped upside down and suddenly she looked like she’d been told the soccer trip was cancelled.

‘Hermione, no,’ she said immediately, and so dismissively that she might have been an owner telling off her dog. ‘You can’t go back there. Especially not when Cho is out of town. Please?’

‘What if I wanted to borrow a book?’ Hermione asked innocently.

‘You could go elsewhere,’ Ginny suggested, ‘I hear the library down the street is good—’

‘You heard that from me!’ Hermione said bitterly. ‘What are you so worried about? Nothing is going to happen.’

‘You don’t know that!’ Ginny said seriously, before lowering her voice. ‘Promise me, Hermione, assure me that you won’t let anything happen. I know! Take _the Unbreakable Vow_!’

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, closed it, looked confused and then opened her mouth again. ‘What’s _the Unbreakable Vow_?’

‘Oh,’ Ginny laughed, ‘it’s this stupid thing Fred and George came up with when they were younger. If you break the promise, then the other person gets to break one of your fingers.’

‘That’s horrible,’ Hermione said, blinking in horror.

‘Yeah,’ Ginny said, laughing casually. ‘Mum was furious with them when she found out about it. They made Ron promise something they knew he wouldn’t keep once, and they broke one of his fingers. That’s how he ended up with his uneven pinkies. Didn’t you notice?’

‘No,’ Hermione said, sounding horrified.

‘Well, it’s probably for the best, it’s hard to unsee,’ Ginny said with a slight shudder. ‘Anyway, if you’re so certain nothing is going to happen at the bookstore, then surely you’ll have no problem taking the promise?’

If anything, Hermione was willing to do the handshake just to get Ginny off her back. Whilst she was troubled by the idea of such a vow, she wasn’t concerned that her chances of having one of her fingers forcibly broken had just gone up. She was sure that she was perfectly capable of going to the bookstore, spending the day in a nice little corner by herself, reading, without ever being distracted by the handsome owner—

‘Good morning, Hermione,’ Harry said to her first thing the next day, after he’d opened the shop at the start of business hours and found her standing on the doorstep.

‘Hi,’ she said breathlessly, pushing her hair back behind her ear and sharing a smile with him. ‘Any recommendations?’

Harry held back the grin. ‘Sure,’ he said, stepping aside, ‘why don’t you come in?’

Hermione made the mistake of locking eyes with him. As she stepped forwards over the threshold, she stubbed her toe on the bottom of the door frame, tripped forwards but managed to stop herself from toppling over in front of him just in time. However, the bag she had been carrying over her arm was not so lucky, it hit the floor with a thud and its contents went everywhere.

Hermione swore under her breath and felt her face flush as she fell to her knees and began scrambling things back towards her within reach. She heard the door close behind her, making her look around and witness Harry picking up the book she had bought from him and which she still carried around with her.

‘Why do you still have this in your bag?’ he asked curiously, showing her the book and choosing to ignore her little trip.

‘It’s just a little reminder,’ Hermione said without thinking, as she quickly got to her feet.

‘About what?’

‘Nothing important.’

Hermione hesitated. She tried to take it from him but at first, but he wouldn’t let go. He gave her a soft smile, which she didn’t feel obliged to return, and then let go of the book. As he walked away, she got the feeling he knew exactly why she held on to it and chose to say nothing. He led her over to the _fiction_ section and handed her a new book that had come out that week.

‘A new book by Robert Galbraith?’ she asked curiously. ‘I love him! His crime novels are excellent.’

‘I like them too,’ Harry said in agreement, ‘this new series is about love, though. I found it compelling. I think you’ll enjoy it.’

‘Good,’ Hermione said happily, ‘because his last book was a little disappointing.’

‘I know,’ Harry said with a laugh, ‘you’d have to be pretty unique to like reading about a little boy who discovers he’s secretly a Wizard.’

‘Very unique,’ Hermione said in agreement, and they shared a laugh as they went their separate ways.

She found a small alcove to crawl into with the new book and started to read.

Much like the first day she was there, the hours flew by as she read her book. She could hear Harry occasionally at the front of the shop, going about his morning routine which involved cataloguing and putting things away. The odd customer or two walked past her reading position, but it was a quiet business day, and Hermione just tried to enjoy the silence.

At lunch time he found her, still entranced in her book, and he asked if he could sit with her and offered her half of his sandwich.

‘I should go and get my own lunch,’ she said guiltily, closing her book with the thought of getting up.

‘Nonsense, I’m not that hungry,’ Harry said kindly, sitting on a small footstool he kept by the bookcase, ‘besides, I prefer the company.’

Hermione hesitantly took the other half of Harry’s sandwich. She wondered, briefly, if by accepting such an offer, she had officially broken _the Unbreakable Vow_ promise. But there was no time to contemplate anything, she was thrown immediately into conversation and by the time he’d asked to know more about her, she’d completely forgotten about the consequences.

‘My parents are dentists,’ she said quickly when he had asked about them, ‘they still have a practice, on the outskirts of town. And I still go skiing with them on occasions.’

‘Sounds nice,’ Harry said, and then he started telling her about his childhood, and she was horrified.

When he was no older than two, his parents died in a car crash, which he miraculously survived with nothing but an upside-down lightening shaped scar on his forehead, which she’d never noticed before he pointed it out. He was then sent to his Aunt and Uncle’s house, who were terrible to him, and his only escape was books. He eventually learned his father had owned a bookstore, he tracked it down, made friends with the owner, landed himself a job and by the time he was eighteen, got the small fortune left to him by his parents and bought the bookstore in which they currently sat.

‘Well, I’m glad it’s a happy ending,’ Hermione said, ‘but that sounds like a terrible upbringing. I’m so sorry.’

‘Thanks, but it’s okay, I’m over it,’ Harry said, finally taking a bite of his sandwich.

‘Yes, but still,’ Hermione said regrettably, ‘what did Cho say about it all—?’

Harry suddenly began to choke. It was as if the very mention of her name was forbidden.

‘She doesn’t know,’ he said after a minute, once he’d recovered, ‘we haven’t really talked about those things intimately.’

Hermione said nothing. How could Cho not know? She was engaged to him, wasn’t she? Hermione needed to be careful about the thoughts that popped into her head, but if this engagement was based purely on physical attraction, how serious could it be, really?

‘Anyway, that reminds me, I’ve got these,’ Harry pulled something from his suit pocket, ‘two theatre tickets for tonight,’ he said, showing her, ‘what do you say? Want to go, how did you put it, _as friends_?’


End file.
